


quiet

by avocado_enthusiast



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Bokuto is so soft for Akaashi, Cute, Established Relationship, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Injury Recovery, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-01
Updated: 2020-04-01
Packaged: 2021-03-01 00:35:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,592
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23436298
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/avocado_enthusiast/pseuds/avocado_enthusiast
Summary: Wordlessly, Bokuto scoops the injured setter into his arms.A quiet Bokuto is never a good thing.
Relationships: Akaashi Keiji/Bokuto Koutarou
Comments: 19
Kudos: 419





	quiet

**Author's Note:**

> I don’t know who needs to hear this, but your infatuation with Bokuto’s biceps is valid. That is all.

Bokuto was the loud to Akaashi’s quiet. 

Where he came in arms open and posture challenging, Akaashi would stroll into the gym, hands tucked behind his back. Bokuto's strong footsteps would have opposing teams tensing up before Fukurodani entered a gym, while Akaashi's would cause their pulses to plummet; the bitter chill to Bokuto’s thunderous storm. Where Bokuto’s expressions spoke a thousand words before the ace so much as opened his mouth, Akaashi's countenance remains a steady constant, pleased smirk rarely leaving his lips. 

All in all, it didn’t take a genius to know that Bokuto Koutarou was _not_ known for his silence.

No matter the circumstance, Bokuto constantly generated some kind of noise. 

So when Akaashi crumbles to the ground, no one expects the silence that follows.

It was a practice match against a local school. Akaashi leapt into the air to perform a jump set. Everyone followed the deft toss, and only the audible _pop_ of Akaashi’s ankle ripped their attention to the gentle tumble of limbs on Fukurodani’s court. 

Audience members could swear that Akaashi’s expression didn’t so much as twitch. That if someone were to look at his face alone, they would never know he folded like a twig, ankle bending sharply. 

The whistle blew, but the Fukurodani team remained rooted to their spots, afraid any jerky movement would break the delicate silence. Would break Akaashi.

Wordlessly, Bokuto scoops Akaashi into his arms. 

The doors and world clicked back to place as the two figures vanished into the connecting hallway. 

-

  
  


Had it been a different set of circumstances, the duo would almost look comical.

Akaashi was around the same height as his boyfriend, so the two had to forego the bridal style carry Bokuto was secretly looking forward to. Fukurodani’s ace swung the training room open with his knee-pad covered leg, arms still secure around his setter’s thighs. 

The trainer at the desk jumps to attention. Once he saw Akaashi’s ballooning ankle, he clicked into action, his movements robotic and well-practiced. Ice was the first thing they gave Akaashi. Lots and lots of ice.

“We ran out of splints, I will be right back.” With a curt bow, he vanished. 

Bokuto tries to think of a joke, preferably owl related. Akaashi always enjoyed those. But everytime he looks at Akaashi he replays the raw flash of fear in his setter's eyes when he hit the ground. That unsettling _pop_ will forever haunt his mind. It made Bokuto want to spike a cross shot, one that not even Komi could receive. 

“Bokuto, you’re awfully quiet. Are you okay?”

Bokuto almost laughed because of course his wonderful, gorgeous, infuriating, and injured setter asked if he was okay. Bokuto had a sneaky suspicion that Akaashi wanted to lighten the mood, to pull Bokuto out of his moping as if he were the one injured and not Akaashi. The ace shared the same desire to crack the tension that crackled between them, and it wasn’t the sexual kind that Bokuto thrived on.

“I stormed out of there.” Bokuto admits. He hadn’t realized just how dramatic he’d been, sweeping Akaashi off the ground like some princess he’d seen in those American movies.

“Yes, yes you did. But I think the coach will understand.” Akaashi pauses. “We were winning, right?”

He doesn’t like the tone of Akaashi’s voice, it sounded distant and sad. 

“We were. But don’t worry, once your ankle is fixed, we can reschedule the match.” Bokuto’s large hands gently cup Akaashi’s slender ones, his thumb rubbing soothing circles on his setter’s delicate skin. Akaashi hums, tracking the slow movement of Bokuto's thick fingers.

“It was scary to watch.” Bokuto confesses. “ As the Captain, I know I’m supposed to motivate the team, to be a level-headed ace.” Akaashi snorts at the last comment. “But all I could think about was taking care of you.” 

“You did the best you could, and quite frankly, what’s done is done.”

Bokuto was never good at reading people, most times it didn’t bother him, but he’d give all of his owl-themed t-shirts to Kuroo to know what was going on in the beautiful mind of Akaashi Keiji. 

To see if he was okay.

“Don't say it like that. Any second the trainer is gonna come back, and wrap you up. You'll be back on the court in no time .” He presses a chaste kiss on Akashi's forehead. “You’ll get better.”

“Yeah you’re right.” Akaashi blows out a stuttered breath. His cheeks flushed and the crease between his brows was pinched in pain. “I’ll be fine.”

Bokuto frowns because Akaashi’s voice sounds wrong. Too clipped and rehearsed. 

“I’ll be fine.” He repeated, more insistent. Alarm bells blare in Bokuto’s mind.

“I understand if you need to go back to the court, I don’t want you to get in trouble.” Akaashi said, leaning away from Bokuto to fluff his pillow. The thing is, Akaashi _loathes_ when his pillows are too fluffed up.

“Akaashi.” Bokuto’s voice dropped, low and knowing. “You know what I meant.” The setter studies the ice bag on his purpling ankle.

Akaashi Keiji’s weakness #3, he tries to distract you from his problems rather than take the help he so easily gives to others. He was always hesitant to share when he was tired, or sad, or hurting. The thought unnerved Bokuto even more because Akashi above all people, should be able to just _exist_. 

He tilts Akaashi’s chin towards him, that stupidly adorable pout still set on his lips.

“You know I’m not leaving your side when you need support.”  _ Even if you’re being dumb about it, _ he finishes internally. It’s refreshing to know he’s not the only one with dejected modes. But more than anything else, Bokuto just wants Akaashi to be okay.

“Akaashi let me take care of you.”

Once after their “study” sessions at Bokuto’s house, Akaashi confessed that Bokuto’s honesty is what made the setter attracted to him. Those bold confessions or awkward truths that others shy around  _ had _ to be declared to the world the moment Bokuto senses them; because if they stay inside him too long, Fukurodani’s ace just might self-combust. And even though his unflitered language led to chastising lessons on social cues and “Bokuto you really have to read the room”, Bokuto thinks this is one of those moments where it was okay to speak before he thinks.

Silent tears streak down Akaashi’s face.

“I think I can do that.” Akaashi finally says.

Bokuto is overcome with the desire to take Akaashi in his arms and hide him from the world, where no one could hurt him. Preferably somewhere dark and warm and had plenty of owl plushies to snuggle in.

Instead he moves with a gentleness he didn’t know he had, adjusting the pillows around the swollen foot and changing out the ice bags. He scoots up the uncomfortable bed to put an arm around Akaashi’s back. He leans the setter right above his heart making sure to not jostle the injured ankle. 

The trainer comes back and confirms that Akaashi did sprain his ankle, and it would be around six weeks until his ligaments healed. For now, Akaashi would maneuver in crutches and then shift to a boot. The setter was not too thrilled at the prospect, but Bokuto was already forming his plan.

-

Akaashi hobbles to school the next morning. The bell rings, and students begin filing to their classes. The setter sighs, retreating to his first block. 

“Akaashi, wait!” Bokuto barrels towards him, significantly slowing his pace to make sure he didn’t run into the injured second-year. 

“I’ll take that and that.” He scoops up Akaashi’s bag and sets the crutches aside.

“Bokuto, what are you doing?” 

“Isn’t it obvious? I’m escorting you to class.” Bokuto produces a piece of paper. “I even got the coach to sign off on it.”

Akaashi looks so adorably surprised that Bokuto steals a kiss from his setter’s open lips. 

“Now climb aboard.” Bokuto pats his back. Akaashi smiles, it’s the same quirk of his lips that he uses when Bokuto nails a cross shot or when he first confesses his all too obvious crush to Akaashi. Bokuto wants to see that smile everyday. 

“What about my crutches?”

“I told the first years to return them to the trainer.”

“Isn’t that on the opposite side of their classes?” Of course Akaashi would know their schedules.

“...yeah.”

But Akaashi must have been in a good mood because he didn’t chastise Bokuto’s abuse of power.

If Akaashi showed up to class a few minutes late, his shirt even more untucked with a couple of the buttons popped open, people just assumed the crutches misaligned his normally tucked uniform. 

And if they saw Bokuto’s hair look even more wild than normal, spiked strands jutting out in new directions. Or noticed his hand resting at his heart as if he were checking his own pulse, they ignored his flushed mannerisms, far used to Bokuto’s antics to question anything. 

And if their teammates catch their Captain pinning their Vice Captain to the wall under the stairwell, they just sighed and went about their day because Akaashi didn’t need to sprain his ankle for _ that  _ to happen. 

As for the unfortunate first years that weren’t used to such blatant PDA and were caught staring, Bokuto made sure to show them his “Official Note”, claiming how he was merely performing his civic duty by making sure Akaashi was in peak physical condition.

Akaashi rolls his eyes behind his animated ace, contently quiet.

  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Legend has it, his HEY HEY HEY’s could still be heard in the Fukurodani halls if you perked your ears hard enough.


End file.
